


Oregano

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-26
Updated: 2007-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:06:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Who on the ship, apart from Reed, suffers from a food intolerance? (05/20/2007)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Very silly fic. More gen than slash really.  


* * *

Malcolm pocketed his scanner and checked the setting on his phase pistol one last time, silently nodding to Trip, positioned across the corridor on the other side of the cargo bay door, to do likewise. They were getting close, and he didn't want to risk killing their quarry in error. Try explaining *that* to Ambassador Soval, Malcolm thought dryly.

For almost an hour they had chased her through the ship, but she knew *Enterprise*'s layout at least as well as they did, and she'd led them a merry dance, one minute scampering through the maintenance shafts on C-deck, and the next doubling back along the main corridors, heading directly towards her ultimate destination. Luckily the corridors were mostly empty at this time of the evening--most of the crew who weren't asleep or at their duty stations were either eating in the mess hall or engaged in leisure activities. Those few they did meet during the chase were sent on their way with a glare from Malcolm and a barked, "As you were, Crewman!" The last thing they needed was an audience.

Malcolm could hear girlish giggling emanating from inside the cargo bay. He should have known this was where she was headed--she'd got the munchies the last time this had happened too. This cargo bay was where Chef kept his special supplies. He motioned to Trip to stay outside and guard the exit, and cautiously pushed the door open.

Malcolm made his way stealthily through the stacks of containers, following the sounds of lip-smacking and the rustle of paper and plastic coming from somewhere ahead of him, but as he rounded the last corner the sounds stopped abruptly.

T'Pol glanced up, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, her superior Vulcan hearing having detected the whisper of his clothing as he moved through the stacks, and Malcolm chuckled quietly to himself as he took in the mess surrounding her--the sticky sweet wrappers and the smear of chocolate around her mouth. Malcolm felt a certain degree of schadenfreude. Chef would not be best pleased to have his chocolate stash raided, but then again, he was responsible for this mess in the first place.

"Sub-commander?" Malcolm said gently, edging forward.

"You can't have any!" she said, gathering up the remainder of the treats and holding them protectively against her ample bosom.

"That's okay, Sub-commander. I don't want any chocolate," he reasoned, speaking to his superior in a tone he would normally have used on a recalcitrant child. "But I think you've probably had quite enough for now, too."

"Don't come any closer!" she said, backing away between the nearest containers and pelting him with handfuls of peanuts.

Malcolm considered. He couldn't let her get away again, and there was no way he was going to get close enough to use the hypospray Phlox had provided. And he was certainly in no mood to engage in a full- blown food fight.

"Come on, Sub-commander," he cajoled one last time. "We need to get you to sickbay."

T'Pol simply shook her head and edged further away.

Malcolm was tired of playing nice. His dinner had been interrupted, and a pleasant evening with his lover postponed when T'Pol had begun her little game of hide and seek. He raised his pistol and fired, and T'Pol slumped to the floor, unconscious.

Malcolm made his way back to the door an opened it to admit Trip and the newly-arrived Phlox, whom Trip had obviously called to the scene.

Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief as he walked over to the comm panel on the wall. "Reed to Captain Archer. The situation is under control," he reported.

"And Sub-commander T'Pol?" the captain's voice came back.

"Safely on her way to sickbay, Captain."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Are you coming back for desert?" Archer said, referring to the senior officers' interrupted meal.

Malcolm smirked, and winked at his partner. "No, thank you, sir. I suspect Commander Tucker might have something laid aside for me in his quarters."

"Very good, Malcolm." He could hear the knowing amusement in Archer's tone. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

"I will, sir." He paused for a moment. "And sir?"

"Yes, Malcolm?"

"You might want to remind Chef *again* about the adverse effect oregano has on our first officer."

There was a muted sniggering on the other end of the comm as Malcolm closed the channel.


End file.
